


Salt in My Lungs

by Idontknownothing



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe, Banter, Magical Realism, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:01:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28072140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idontknownothing/pseuds/Idontknownothing
Summary: Somewhere, the ocean pours into the skies.
Relationships: Park Jinyoung/Jackson Wang
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Salt in My Lungs

**Author's Note:**

> uhh. liberties taken with the so-called theology lol. and also this is so random it doesnt even make sense.

* * *

The dim light flickers from a single bulb just above the table.

Dull and heavy wood, it’s the centrepiece of the sparsely cluttered main salon. The walls are lined with short shelves on all sides, occupied by an assortment of ornaments. There’s the odd rope strewn over basic fishing equipment that’s a haphazard bundle in one of the corners. Jackson's leaning back against his chair, feet propped up on the table. He’s staring out intently through the portside window.

It is pitch black outside.

Nothing can be seen at all. One could assume that he's fixated on the muted music crackling softly from an antique phonograph. But the record player itself is set by the lower helm, on the floor as if it’s an afterthought. Just like the sombre voice of a woman floating out of its gold brass horn, aged terribly with dull scratches. A forgotten tune, filled with the sorrow of a forgotten century.

The sudden creak of the starboard side door startles Jackson. He whips his head around when the icy night wind sweeps in.

A man steps inside.

-

“Fuck why is it so cold out there?”, the man basks in the humid air of the salon, cocooned in a realm of its own.

Jackson clears his throat, sitting up in his chair.

The man frowns, looking around.

"Sorry. Am I – "

Jackson blinks at the man hesitating to shut the door behind him.

"Something wrong, Jinyoung?"

"Was I uh...", Jinyoung asks, eyes warily staring through the tips of his fringe dripping with the salt of the sea. "Was I interrupting something?"

Jackson laughs casually.

"Nah."

A little too casually, that Jinyoung doesn’t seem convinced.

Though when Jackson offers him a foldable chair backed up against a bare plywood wall, he’s still quick to take off his rain jacket and shuts the door with an eager click of the lock.

“Did you find what you were looking for?”, Jackson smiles amiably.

"Yeah, sort of.", Jinyoung pats at his pocket safely cocooning a beaded rosary, just short of the cross it once bore.

Jinyoung sets down his heavy-duty flashlight onto the table, salt water seeping into the grain of wood. He notices Jackson staring through the porthole on the door. 

He doesn't ask Jackson what he's looking at.

It's pitch black outside.

-

A bowl filled with odd light brown nubs that look like shrivelled dumplings is the only thing on the table.

“What’s that?”, Jinyoung asks, taking a seat just across Jackson.

But before he can, Jinyoung’s knocked off to the side onto the floor.

The groan of timber and metal, defenceless structure caving in to the force of nature, cuts through the stillness. Jackson almost lurches back in his chair, but grounds himself just in time.

Another rough wave rocks violently against their trawler. Staggering back up, Jinyoung braces his palms onto the table edges. A desperate flail against the brutal yank on his body when the trawler tips back, shelves crashing around him.

Jinyoung remembers God for a moment and wonders if this was it.

Eventually, the seas calm again.

The sound of the woman’s voice continues to haunt the room, as unfazed as Jackson who moves around casually and picks up a fallen ornament. It's a bronze plate with an inscription on it. He places it back on the one sturdy shelf that hasn't been knocked over. Everything else litters the floorboards in a wreck.

Except the bowl of figs. 

Disturbingly enough, it remains as it were. On the table, in the orange glow of the lightbulb dancing wildly just above their heads.

"What – was that?", Jinyoung hitches a breath, snapping his head towards the portside window. He clambers back onto his chair and finds himself flinching at the piercing splinter of wood in his thumb.

"The waters are a little unpredictable out here." Jackson glances at Jinyoung, then shifts his gaze towards the same porthole of the door.

Jackson stares out long enough to unsettle him, because Jinyoung wonders what Jackson sees sometimes.

Especially when it’s pitch black outside. 

"Hey.”, Jackson murmurs, looking back at him again.

“We'll be fine. Don't worry."

Jinyoung nods uncertainly, though he does feel the tension in his chest settling back into stability. And so does the pendulum of the dangling lightbulb, hovering overhead.

Jackson takes a fallen chair and pulls it over to Jinyoung’s side of the table.

“You okay?”

Jinyoung shuts his eyes, catching a breath.

"Y-yeah. It's just –!” he jerks from the sudden touch of Jackson's hand on his.

He pauses, shifting his wide eyes towards the door from where he came in. A whistle of shaky breaths steadies his wits.

“It’s just, I was just out there you know."

The thought of sinking into the black depths of the unknown would naturally be terrifying to anyone. It should be.

Only, Jackson chuckles like it's a joke.

Though Jinyoung supposes if it were Jackson, he wouldn't be too concerned about being tossed overboard in choppy waters at any given moment.

When he sees that Jinyoung's still a bit shaken, he presses his lips thin.

“Sorry." Jackson lowers his head just a little. "If it’s any consolation I would have saved you.”

Jinyoung scoffs, but it's more of disbelief than insult.

“And you’d know I’d have fallen over, how?”, he narrows his eyes.

“I’d just know.”, Jackson reassures him. He doesn't seem to just be saying that.

Jinyoung can’t help the furrow in his brows. He should be used to the little snippets of random revelations at this point. But he isn’t, and the words burrow into his ears until it bloats from the curiosity eating at his thoughts.

He starts picking off the shallow stab of the stray splinter jutting out of his thumb.

“How would –”, Jinyoung begins tentatively.

The high-pitched scrape of a chair against the floorboards agitates the nerves beneath his skin. He grits his teeth at Jackson, who’s shifting back up in his chair.

Jackson just darts out his tongue and wets his lips, blinking back at Jinyoung like he doesn’t know what the problem is.

“Uh anyway.", Jackson pushes the bowl towards him, smiling gently as if to distract.

"They're dried figs. Would you like to try one?”

"Uh I don’t –", Jinyoung eyes it with caution.

"It's just a fruit." Jackson's smile evolves into something rather, persuasive.

"Just – try it.", he insists, voice dipping low. Jinyoung's not quite sure if he's doing that on purpose, or if it's just the way his voice is.

Jinyoung's also not quite sure about this odd fruit but he reaches into the bowl anyway when Jackson looks expectant. It's not polite to refuse if there's no real reason to.

Besides, it's just a dried fruit.

Jinyoung carefully picks one, shaped nicely into a perfect drop of tear. If teardrops were wrinkled and scratchy on the surface.

He feels the dense weight of it in his palm before giving it a cautious nibble.

It isn't dry at all, absolutely viscid inside, once Jinyoung actually manages to sink his teeth into its sinew flesh. Bits of gum stubbornly root itself into the grooves of his teeth and there's a burst of texture, crumbling like salt. Or a kick of sand against his throat.

Not at all a pleasant sensation.

But it's sweet.

He finds himself stretching his lips a bit wider when he catches Jackson observing him, pushing the rest of the fruit into his mouth with a hum.

It's syrupy.

Like the sweet nectar of honey.

“I haven't seen these before.”, Jinyoung licks into his teeth, pointing at the bowl.

“They’re not common in Korea. It was a bit of a hassle to get to the trader." Jackson nods, leaning a cheek into his palm, elbow propped up.

"Where did you get it?", Jinyoung asks curiously.

"Just now. It was about . . .half an hour into town – by bike.", Jackson smiles into his palm.

They docked at Mokpo this morning. It might have been a week or so since Jinyoung stepped on land. The first thing he did was grace the pier with his swirl of breakfast. He’d thought he’d get used to it by then. They’re far away from the port in Busan.

And that was weeks ago.

"That’s why you rented that motorbike?", Jinyoung looks down at the bowl, almost intrigued.

Jackson smiles sheepishly, letting his finger brush the bowl.

"It's got quite an addictive flavour don't you think?"

Jinyoung wrinkles an eye.

"Well it is sticky, I'll give you that.", he replies, utterly unimpressed.

Jackson laughs at the lukewarm response. "I was the same at first."

He slinks back into his chair again, stretching his legs out towards Jinyoung. They’re both wearing sandals made of leather hide that Jinyoung thinks is a little too comfortable. Both, belonging to Jackson.

Jinyoung feels the brush of cold skin against his ankle. Jackson’s always so cold. It’s strange because he also burns up easily. And when he does, his skin feels like fire.

_On land, Jackson's humid. The air surrounding him, a thick blanket of moisture like the shores in summer. In water, in storm, he is unforgivably cold._

_But there are times when Jinyoung touches his skin. I_ _t feels like fire._

_There are times when Jackson gets too close._

_When Jackson's so close, Jinyoung can't seem to breathe any longer. Even when they're completely dry, when they're on land, Jinyoung feels like he's drowning._

_It feels like there's salt in his lungs._

"I really only got obsessed with figs when I was doing an assignment in Turkey. It was some years ago.” Jackson motions his head off towards the stern. As if it’s instinct to him. That’s west. That’s east.

As if he had always belonged to the sea.

"They're fresh and ripe there. Really amazing. Nothing like these ones.", Jackson gestures at the bowl of dried ones.

Jinyoung catches Jackson looking at his silver cross necklace, tonight, it’s revealed by his shirt unbuttoned too low, resting on the swell of his chest. It’s the first time he’s worn it in years. He’d slipped it on when Jackson said the seas in these parts get rough at night. Jinyoung wouldn’t say he’s devout. But it’s the only thing his mother left him.

“You believe in God?”, Jackson nods towards it, casually. Like everything else about him.

Jinyoung shrugs a nod.

“Do you?”, Jinyoung asks back, not really knowing why.

Jackson hums distantly.

“I think – Well I guess I find monotheism interesting?”, he replies, like it's a question.

“Is that so.”, Jinyoung asks, like it’s an answer. He’s taken to looking at the way Jackson’s started drumming his fingers onto the table and considering his bowl of figs.

Jackson stops abruptly, sitting up straight.

“Have you ever heard this one then?”, he suddenly says.

“We have created you in likeness of each other, but not at all alike."

Jinyoung looks at him.

He’s just only realised the music’s stopped. It’s quiet, except the bounce of Jackson’s voice off the sturdy walls caving in on them.

“I haven’t.”, he says. There are a lot of moments when Jackson makes him think but still not know what to make of it.

“It was from one of those.” Jackson nods at the necklace again.

“You mean the bible?”, Jinyoung blinks.

“No. I don’t think so.”, Jackson shakes his head.

Jinyoung doesn’t reply, staring at him rather thoughtfully.

"What's the matter?", Jackson asks.

"Nothing. It's just. All things considered –" Jinyoung sticks out a hand towards Jackson. He doesn’t know what he was going to do with it, so he retracts it and scratches into his ear awkwardly.

Jackson seems amused, taking a fig from the bowl and popping it into his mouth.

In close proximity, Jinyoung’s reminded of how much Jackson reeks of the salt air caught in a gentle breeze, of the toasted sandy beaches burning under the summer sun.

Even when they’re far inland.

" – well uh, you know.", Jinyoung fumbles over his words.

He finds his eyes following the movements of Jackson’s throat. He’s swallowing down so thickly, Jinyoung would almost think he's doing this on purpose. If, Jinyoung didn't find the texture a rather uncomfortably sticky sensation down his own throat as well.

“What do you mean?”, Jackson cocks his head, chewing rather languidly.

“I just – you don’t seem to be inclined towards theology.”, Jinyoung finally manages. Though he finds himself stupid for what he’s just said.

Jackson laughs, smacking his lips. This action Jinyoung thinks is rather useless. It is still dried fruit, devoid of any juice.

He's definitely doing that on purpose.

"I'm sure we're all inclined to some form of theology at some point in our lives.", Jackson panders.

"So, you believe in God?", Jinyoung asks.

Jackson smiles cryptically.

“I’m not much of a reader.” he evades, pointing off at the small shelves he has filled with a strange assortment of idols and knick-knacks, there’s only a few books. Some of them look like old journals. All of them tattered and worn.

"And I’ve never been good with words. So –”

Jinyoung snorts.

“Of all the things you've ever told me, I find that hard to believe.” Jinyoung raises his brows.

Jackson laughs.

"I'm flattered you think so."

Jinyoung feels the curves of his cheek tensing up, but he holds back.

"You were saying?", he prods instead.

“What I meant was I'm not good at remembering these things. Words. So, I'm not sure if it was those words exactly." Jackson continues to explain.

“We have created you in likeness of each other, but not at all alike.", Jinyoung repeats, exactly word for word.

"You're good.", Jackson cocks his head, quite impressed.

"I'm good with words.", Jinyoung jokes.

Jackson laughs. This time, Jinyoung doesn’t hold back his smile.

"Where did you read it from?", Jinyoung asks.

"Hmm. It was some years ago. I didn’t read it. Someone told me actually.” Jackson scratches into the stubble of his chin.

“Some years ago. . .during your assignment in Turkey?”, Jinyoung tries guessing.

Jackson gives him a slow nod, very impressed at his deduction. “I just think it’s interesting.”

"It is quite." Jinyoung agrees.

He looks at the bowl of dried figs again, finding himself reaching out for one more.

And another. Jackson too. Until they’re both just eating in silence. Jackson was right. It gets addictive. The syrupy sticky sweetness, spreading out into the wetness of his mouth.

“It was breasts.”

Jinyoung almost chokes on one.

“What?”

Jackson chuckles, fiddling with another fig. He nibbles a bit.

It’s a strange fruit, with the consistency of gunky jam, sort of like marmalade. Only it’s reddish-brown and bountifully fertile with tiny sacs of seeds that give it a crunch. The large swell of its wrinkled outer skin curves out plump from the base into a tip.

“About likeness.” Jackson says.

“It came up during a conversation about how breasts and figs seem alike, they’re quite alike.”

Jackson fiddles its brownish tip.

“But they look nothing alike. Especially inside.”

Jinyoung swallows a fig, watching Jackson giving his own a squeeze, a gentle rub of his thumb and forefinger. Almost as if it's a hypnotic spell.

“In likeness of each other but not at all alike.” Jinyoung finds himself repeating again in a low murmur.

Jackson looks up at him, with a smirk that's clearly trying to get a rise out of him. Jinyoung indulges it with a little bite of his lips.

“Do you talk about breasts with everyone?”, Jinyoung says, rather amused.

“I just think it’s funny how it gets a knee jerk reaction every time.”, Jackson grins. “It’s interesting how sexualised breasts are. Like sex is all its about.”, Jackson waves the tiny fruit between his fingers at Jinyoung.

“What do you think it’s about then?”, Jinyoung crosses his arms.

“Sustenance maybe? Or procreation. Isn’t it obvious?”, Jackson pops the fruit in his mouth and crosses his arms too.

“But not very thrilling.” Jinyoung leans forward slightly, pressing his forearms onto the table. His necklace slips out the billow of his shirt.

“It can be.” Jackson says innocently, but not quite.

His lips curl up slightly in the corners, baring a bit of teeth. A bit of fruit flesh stuck in between.

“I thought you don’t like it all to be about sex.” Jinyoung muses, staring shamelessly as Jackson takes his time to chew.

Jackson cocks an eyebrow, ever so slightly.

“I don’t think I said that." he tilts his head, still chewing. "I just said I found it interesting.”, his voice dips again. That low, rusted drawl.

Definitely on purpose.

A stifling heat fills the musty air, sealed in by weathertight doors and tempered windows. Jinyoung’s just only aware of how damp his shirt is getting, clinging to his skin. It’s unbuttoned a cut too low, and he can feel the trickle of sweat down the exposed swell of his chest.

Jinyoung pops the last fruit in the bowl into his mouth.

“Do you find breasts interesting too?”, Jinyoung asks innocently, but not quite.

Jackson smiles, eyes flickering down towards Jinyoung’s cross, hanging in the thick air, nice and low.

_The sound of a heartbeat is like it's submerged. Your insides completely submerged in water._

Jackson smacks his lips uselessly once more.

“Quite.”


End file.
